


Gentlemen

by Useless19



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless19/pseuds/Useless19
Summary: A man looking for his book and a man looking for his place in the world. What else are they going to do but have tea?





	Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

> For the Phoenix Wright kinkmeme part 24: <http://pw-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/884.html?thread=126068#cmt126068> Set between Ace Attorney and Justice For All, and pre-Curious Village (though with only a rough idea of what happened in the prequels).
> 
> Transferred over from my fanfiction.net account.

Hershel Layton, professor of archaeology and puzzle enthusiast, sometimes wished he didn't have to put in at least two terms worth of teaching credit in order to keep his position at Gressenheller. It was completely fair of the university to ask it of him, however, it meant marking.

Lots and lots of marking.

Layton stared at the current paper in front of himself and wondered where, exactly, this particular student had found his information. It wasn't in the required reading for the course, or the texts Layton had specified for the paper – and he should know, what with copies of the texts scattered over his desk in varying stages of open. It was barely on topic, however the points it made required answering.

The hour was late, but the library should still be open. Layton got up, made sure his hat was firmly in place, then left his office. He made sure to take the paper, in the hopes that the reference was correct in the bibliography, so he could find the books he was looking for quickly.

The library was mostly quiet – it being the middle of term, instead of the end of year exam-crush – and Layton trod the familiar path to the archaeology and history section without being frantically questioned by any students with exams or coursework due tomorrow. Layton made a mental note to come here this early in term more often.

There was only one man in the archaeology and history section. Reasonably tall, with grey hair and a rather striking suit. He was reading a book in the middle of the aisle. A book which Layton had a sinking feeling – because, really, the odds always came down like this whenever he was involved – was actually the book he was after.

Still, Layton made sure to check the shelves thoroughly beforehand. It wouldn't do to go interrupting the man if it turned out he was simply reading a similarly-sized book.

No such luck. There was a distinct gap on the bookshelf and the university's organising system skipped right over the number Layton was interested in. It was such a pity when events like this occurred.

“Excuse me, sir,” Layton said.

The stranger startled out of his reading trance and looked surprised that Layton was standing nearby. Layton could completely understand, having been swept away by the world of words many times in the past.

“Do you need something?” the man asked. Not completely rude, but not particularly polite either.

“I was wondering if that book you're reading would happen to be the _Encyclopedia of Nineteenth Century Law_ ,” Layton said, “I'm looking for that book, you see. If I know you have it, I don't have to search the other shelves in case it's been misplaced.”

The man checked the front of the book. “It is.”

“Oh dear,” Layton sighed, “In that case, may I inquire as to how long you're planning to keep it?”

The man drummed his fingers on the spine of the book then appeared to come to a decision. He held the book out to Layton.

“Here,” the man said, “You look like you need it more than me.”

“While I do require that book for research purposes, it wouldn't be fair of me to deprive you of its pages,” Layton said, making no move to take it.

“It's hardly fair of me, when I'm in the wrong subject area,” the man said, somewhat cryptically.

“May I suggest another arrangement?” Layton said, “I only require the book until I have finished with my marking – which I had planned on getting through the last of tonight. You could come to my office to read the book and I will only bother you for it when absolutely necessary.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” the man started.

“Nonsense, I always enjoy company,” Layton said, “I have a wide range of teas, which you would be welcome to try.”

“Thank you,” the man said, “That does sound pleasant.”

“Right this way, sir,” Layton said, “Oh, forgive my lack of manners. My name is Hershel Layton, I'm a professor of archaeology at the university.”

“Miles Edgeworth,” the man said, with a gracious nod, “I'm... studying law.”

 

* * *

 

Edgeworth was a quiet guest, which meant Layton could make good progress with his marking. He took his tea bitter, thankfully, so Layton didn't have to make two blends in order to both serve his guest and give himself the proper stimulation required for marking this late.

As the course of the evening unwound, Layton managed to finish all but two papers. The last few had been particularly dense and Layton started when he glanced at his clock.

“Goodness, is it that late already?”

Edgeworth blinked and checked his watch. “It is,” he replied.

“I'm terribly sorry to have kept you so late,” Layton said, “I didn't expect my marking to take this long. I still haven't finished everything yet.”

“That's fine,” Edgeworth said, getting to his feet and giving his shoulders a shrug to loosen them, “...Does that mean you require the book to continue tomorrow?”

“If it isn't too much trouble for you,” Layton said, “I'd be glad for the company.”

Edgeworth looked somewhat wary, as though he could sense a trap but didn't know where it lay yet.

“That would be nice,” Edgeworth said carefully, “I have business that takes me out of town during the day, however, I should be back by eight o'clock. Would that be acceptable?”

Spoken in the tone of voice that left little room for argument. Whomever Miles Edgeworth was, he obviously had more of a backstory than that of a simple student. Layton found himself curious.

“Eight o'clock then,” Layton nodded, “Good night, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“Good night, Professor Layton.”

 

* * *

 

It was a rather harried Edgeworth who met with Layton the next evening. Layton decided a smoother, calming tea would be best and set about preparing the pot while Edgeworth made himself comfortable on the settee.

“Why,” Edgeworth bit out, “Is it that banks are globally incompetent when dealing with simple requests?”

“Oh dear,” Layton said, setting down the teatray, “Were you able to find a solution for your predicament?”

“Thankfully, yes,” Edgeworth replied, “The issue is resolved and they no longer believe me to be dead.”

“Dead?” Layton repeated, “My, that is quite the oversight.”

Edgeworth hesitated when reaching for his cup. He gave Layton a considering look.

“It's done now,” Edgeworth said, shaking himself out of his thoughts, “There's no need to dwell on it further.”

Stranger and stranger. However, a gentleman didn't pry into the affairs of others; especially when they'd already been dismissed by the relevant parties.

That didn't mean he couldn't ask in a direction Edgeworth was more likely to talk about.

“Tell me, if you would, Mr. Edgeworth,” Layton said, “Why have you chosen Gressenheller University to study law? Though I'm very fond of my workplace, it's hardly the foremost university when it comes to subjects other than archaeology, history, and puzzles.”

“It's the history I'm interested in,” Edgeworth replied, “I wish to look at older examples of prosecutors and their reason for first appearing in the court of law. My previous studies were thorough, but they neglected this aspect. I've since discovered it's far more crucial than first glance would have it.”

“Oh? Crucial in what way?” Layton asked.

Edgeworth hesitated again. “What would you say is a prosecutor's duty in the courtroom?” he asked. It felt very much like a puzzle.

“I'm not nearly as well-versed in the subject of law as I imagine you are,” Layton said, with a nod toward Edgeworth, “But, as I understand it, the prosecutor in a trial is responsible for punishing the guilty.”

“Everyone's guilty of something,” Edgeworth said, sounding like he was quoting someone, though for the life of him, Layton didn't know whom.

“That's a rather dour outlook, I must say,” Layton said, “And surely it conflicts with the role of the trial itself? That is, the _crime_ is being punished, correct?”

“Yet sometimes it may be better to catch a criminal with a smaller crime than risk them going unpunished,” Edgeworth argued, “Criminals should _not_ walk free.”

“I agree,” Layton said, “Though I am a firm believer in the old adage of innocent until proven guilty.”

“Hmph,” Edgeworth sat back and regarded Layton with a harsh glare, “And the families of the victim? What comfort can be offered to them if the only suspect gets away?”

“Are you interested in solely murder trials then?” Layton asked.

“It's what I am... _was_ accustomed to working on,” Edgeworth replied, his left hand twitching up to pull on his sleeve.

“It sounds like you've had quite the interesting career,” Layton said, making a mental note of it, “How often has it come about that the wrong suspect was successfully framed?”

“More often than I'd like recently,” Edgeworth replied with a heavy sigh, “Thanks to... _him_.”

“Him?” Layton echoed.

“Never mind,” Edgeworth said, standing up quickly. He took the book out of his satchel and put it on the table, “I've got what I needed from the book. I'll let the library know it's in your possession. Good day.”

Moving as rapidly as he did, Edgeworth was at the door before Layton found his tongue.

“W-wait! You don't have to leave,” Layton said, “I apologise for pushing on what is obviously a sensitive subject for you.”

“If I don't leave I'm liable to say something unforgivable,” Edgeworth replied, not slowing, “Good day.”

The door shut behind him harder than strictly necessary. Layton sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Oh dear.”

 

* * *

 

It was a week before Layton saw Edgeworth again.

Truth be told, Layton had expected their last meeting to be the end of it and had resigned himself to never seeing the strange man again. He'd since finished with the book in question and had returned it to the library.

So, it was unexpected when there was a knock at Layton's office door; after office hours, but quite some time before Luke was due. Visitors were always welcome though, so Layton went to see who it was –

– and nearly knocked his hat off in a combination of surprise at the visitor and a quick step back to avoid the bag Edgeworth thrust out as soon as the door was opened.

“I apologise for the way I left, it was rude of me,” Edgeworth said. It sounded very rehearsed and stiff, but there was a ring of sincerity to the words.

And a true gentleman never refuses an apology or a present. Layton smiled and opened the door further to let Edgeworth step inside, taking the bag from him at he did so.

“Not at all,” Layton said, “It was insensitive of me. Tea?”

“Please.”

Edgeworth only began to relax after he'd drunk half a cup. Layton did his best to make small talk, but it was difficult work.

Then he struck gold.

“I've had some time to think about the nature of law,” Layton said, immediately gaining Edgeworth's full attention, “As I've said before, it's not my area of expertise, but I _have_ had some dealings with ambiguous wills, usually when it comes to how to divide up land. It might not be murder, but some of the underlying principles are the same.”

Edgeworth motioned for him to go on. Layton took a moment to refill his teacup, picking his words carefully.

“Sometimes I find that what people _deserve_ is very different to what they _receive_ ,” Layton said slowly.

“Precisely,” Edgeworth nodded, “So what can a prosecutor do but attempt to ensure that every suspect they believe to be guilty is given the correct verdict?”

“Only so long as that qualifier holds,” Layton replied, “If their arguments are torn asunder by the defence and there is no doubt that the suspect is innocent, it would be wrong to push for a guilty verdict.”

“Even if the prosecutor still believes in the suspect's guilt?”

Layton paused before answering, savouring his drink. “Distance is important in the courtroom, is it not? Personal feelings shouldn't come before the law or what's right.”

“No, it shouldn't,” Edgeworth muttered, “I've accused defence attorneys of doing just that, yet when I had the opportunity to face it with dignity...”

Layton kept silent in the presence of the admission. It appeared to have been hard to reach and a long time in coming; it wouldn't be a good idea to either point it out or distract away from it.

“I'm a coward,” Edgeworth said suddenly, “A disgrace to my profession.”

“Perhaps it would be best to talk things over before you go hastily deciding something like that,” Layton said, pouring Edgeworth another cup of tea and wishing he'd made something more calming, “I will be the sole of discretion if you choose to discuss the situation with me.”

Edgeworth was silent for a long time. Layton felt every tick of the clock hanging on the wall behind him. If Edgeworth took too long, then Luke would arrive and Layton suspected he'd never get to the bottom of this curious situation.

“I suppose it all starts a little over fifteen years ago,” Edgeworth began haltingly, “My father was a defence attorney of some renown and, as a Christmas present, he took me to see one of his trials...”

The story came out piece by piece, in a tone devoid of emotion, as though Edgeworth was narrating someone else's life. If it hadn't been for his own strange adventures, Layton would've scarce believed the tale; full of deceit, revenge, and murder as it was.

“...and with that I left. I told no one where I was going and now I find myself at your university, Professor,” Edgeworth finished.

“My, that's a lot to take in,” Layton said, giving himself time to think, “Law suddenly seems like a much more sensational career than I was originally lead to believe.”

“Given that you now know the whole sorry affair, what would you have done?” Edgeworth asked. The question was posed blandly, but there was a tension to Edgeworth's shoulders and an intensity in his eyes that told a different story. This query was possibly the most vital Layton had answered in this conversation so far.

“It's difficult to say,” Layton said carefully, “After all, a puzzle never looks the same once you know the answer. Also, it sounds like you're far more used to the intricacies of legal politics than I am.”

“Assume you had my training.”

“I can't say I would've done things particularly differently,” Layton said, “People in positions of power – like the police or prosecutors – are supposed to be trustworthy. To find out that not only were they deceiving you, but also manipulating you for their own ends... It must've been hard. I can't imagine I'd want to talk to anyone who I believed in and could betray me too.”

Not that Layton's list of close confidants was long by any stretch of the imagination.

All the tension left Edgeworth and the corners of his mouth finally twitched upward in the first smile Layton had ever seen him express. Something in Layton's answer must have been exactly what Edgeworth was after.

There was a patter of running feet in the corridor outside and a hurried knock at the door. Edgeworth started and nearly split his tea. Layton excused himself to let in Luke, who was right on time.

“That's my cue to leave then,” Edgeworth said, standing up and giving both Layton and Luke a nod, “Good night, Professor Layton.”

“Good night, Mr. Edgeworth.”


End file.
